strength in numbers

“Misery loves company”.

“There's strength in numbers”.

I've heard lots of variations of the same basic message: having people around you who understand makes a world of difference. Only recently, since beginning to attend a recovery therapy group, am I realizing how very true that is.

Growing up with an eating disorder, I honestly thought I was the only one who had ever had these feelings. Of course, I realized thousands of other girls struggled with body image, diets, and eating disorders. But no one understood my demons; I was a special kind of fucked up, beyond understanding, and without a chance of recovery. On the surface I denied I had a problem, but inside I knew I was far from having normal, healthy thoughts about food and about my body. I just assumed (because of my special, one-of-a-kind, eating disordered brain) that I'd stay this way forever, so acknowledging that I needed help, and getting it, would be a waste of time. So, for ten years, I obsessed, stressed, counted, and restricted; the whole time trying to convince myself I was living a normal life.

Stumbling upon the book “Life Without Ed” by Jenni Shaefer was a harsh eye opener for me. She writes about her journey with her eating disorder; all the way from her first negative thoughts about her body as a small child, to the depths of her struggle, to her eventual recovery to health. As I read, over and over I found myself thinking “Holy crap, WHY would you do that, that's crazy!”, only to realize a half a second later that I'd done the same thing; I was every bit as crazy as her. For the first time, I realized just how messed up my thinking had gotten, and I couldn't deny it anymore. But instead of scaring me, it gave me comfort and hope. This girl, Jenni, had gone on to be happy and healthy, so maybe there was a bit of hope for me, too.

A few months later, and I'm accepted into an intensive recovery program, part of which is a weekly group therapy. Going into my first session, I was pessimistic; none of these girls seemed like likely allies in the pursuit of recovery. At first glance, it was a broad range of women; young, old, skinny, overweight. Honestly, if I had met this group in a normal, everyday context, there was no way we'd somehow emerge as friends.

Before the end of the first meeting, though, I wanted to hug each and every one of them. As each girl talked about her own issues and struggles, it became clear we were all much more similar than I'd thought. In every story, there were feelings and thoughts and confessions that I was all too familiar with, that I had thought I was alone in feeling. Just knowing I wasn't the only one feeling like this was a huge relief. Knowing I wasn't alone in all this made it just a little bit less scary.

Being able to talk to people who are fighting the same demons as I am is incredibly comforting. My friends and family try to be understanding, but they'll never truly get it, and a small part of me is always worried they're judging me, just a little bit. The girls at support group though, they've been there. They've had the same crazy thoughts; they've gone to the same crazy measures in order to obey their eating disorders.

I'm less than a month into the group sessions, but already I feel such a sense of solidarity with everyone there. Each weekly session feels like entering a safe zone, where I'm not the odd man out. I'm surprised by how comfortable I am, sharing things I've never talked about, and crying in front of near strangers. I'm even more surprised by how much I care for these girls; I want each of them to be healthy and happy, and I find myself wondering about how they're doing in between meetings.

Maybe in time I'll get to know these girls more personally, and we can bond over things other than our eating disorders. Ideally, eating disorders won't even be an issue, and we could just be “normal” friends. For now though, I'm just incredibly grateful to have learned that I'm not alone, and I'm not incurable, and that there are amazing, beautiful people right by my side in this battle against ED.

Ignorance (take2)

"So what, you just don't like food?"

This is how my boss responded when I confided that I was seeking treatment for an eating disorder and would need some time off work.

"You know, I just don't get the eating disorder thing. I'd eat anything you put in front of me. They say you live longer if you're skinny anyway."

Really? REALLY?? Despite the fact that talking about it nearly brings me to tears every time, and that I had to work up my bravery all morning to tell you this, THIS is how you reply??

It's 2014. Aren't people more aware of the seriousness of mental illness? I've been a big supporter of Bell's "Let's Talk" Day, and Eating Disorder Awareness Week in the past few years, but I've never really stopped to think about what it meant to "raise awareness".  I just kind of thought, this day in age, it wasn't even an issue of people be unaware.  People had to know how real and how debilitating mental illness can be.  But apparently not. My boss is a prime example of how ignorant (and rude) people can still be.

Mental illness, namely eating disorder in my case, is not to be taken lightly.  Just to put it in perspective, anorexia nearly killed me ten years ago.  At twelve years old, I had dropped down to a disgustingly low weight.  My body had deteriorated so badly, and my heartrate was so low, that I was immediately admitted into hospital and hooked up to a half-dozen machines.

After a three month hospital stay, I was healthy enough to go back to "normal" life, but now, even ten years later,  I'm not truly healthy.  The hospital stay made my body healthy(er), but my mind stayed as crazy as ever.  Almost every single day since then has been a struggle; every calorie that enters my body has been a tiny battle.  I'm constantly aware of what I eat, and how or if it might affect my weight.

After ten years of stress and anxiety over something as basic as food, you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of letting anorexia and its evil little voice in my head control every day of my life.

I've talked to my parents and close friends, and I've been to several professionals already.  I'm in the process of getting enrolled in an out-patient therapy program. I'm taking steps to make myself healthy, mentally and physically. It's not going to be easy, and to be honest, I'm terrified, but I know it's a HUGELY positive thing in my life.

So, when I went to my boss to try and explain the situation, at the very least I was hoping he'd be happy to hear that I was doing something to improve my health. I never expected to be trivialized, as if the struggle my life has been for the past decade was no big deal, a joke.

The more I reflected on the conversation, the more annoyed I got.  Here I am, making one of the scariest decisions of my life, and you act as if I should just be able to get over it?  Now, on top of the appointments, doctors, therapy, and stress, I have to deal with the skepticism and judgment of my boss?

And I know now that he's not the only person around who is so oblivious.  After meeting with other girls at group therapy, I've heard how they all have people in their lives who just don't get it.  Contrary to what these people believe, it's not a matter of just getting over it, just eating a piece of cake. 

I'm not sure my purpose in writing this is.  To raise awareness?  Maybe.  If people read this and choose to learn more about eating disorders, or anything other type of mental illness, great.  I think it's more in the hopes of ending such rudeness in people's ignorance.  Even if you don't understand the struggle of someone else, or if it seems like a silly issue to you, please understand that to them it is a big deal.  Please, please don't make them feel like their problems don't matter.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

The Unaware Asshole: Raising Mental Health Awareness

"So what, you just don't like food?"

This is how my boss responded when I confided that I was seeking treatment for an eating disorder and would need some time off work.

"You know, I just don't get the eating disorder thing. I'd eat anything you put in front of me. They say you live longer if you're skinny anyway."

Really? REALLY?? Despite the fact that talking about it nearly brings me to tears every time, and that I had to work up my bravery all morning to tell you this, THIS is how you reply??

It's 2014. Aren't people more aware of the seriousness of mental illness? I've been a big supporter of Bell's "Let's Talk" Day, and Eating Disorder Awareness Week in the past few years, but I've never really stopped to think about how necessary it might be to raise awareness.  I thought, this day in age, awareness wasn't even an issue; people had to know how real and how debilitating mental illness can be.  But apparently not. My boss is a prime example of how ignorant (and rude) people can still be.

Mental illness, eating disorders especially in this case, are not to be taken lightly.  To put it in perspective, anorexia nearly killed me ten years ago.  My body had deteriorated so badly, and my heartrate was so low, that I was immediately admitted into hospital and hooked up to a half-dozen machines.

After a three month hospital stay, I was healthy enough to go back to "normal" life, but now, even ten years later,  I'm not truly healthy.  Almost every single day since then has been a struggle; every calorie that enters my body has been a tiny battle.  I'm constantly aware of what I eat, and how or if it might affect my weight.

After ten years of stress and anxiety over something as basic as food, you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of letting anorexia and its evil little voice in my head control every day of my life.

I've talked to my parents and close friends, and I've been to several professionals already.  I'm in the process of getting enrolled in an out-patient therapy program. I'm taking steps to make myself healthy, mentally and physically. It's not going to be easy, and to be honest, I'm terrified, but I know it's a HUGELY positive thing in my life.

So, when I went to my boss to try and explain the situation, at the very least I was hoping he'd be happy to hear that I was doing something to improve my health. I never expected to be trivialized, as if the struggle my life has been for the past decade was no big deal, a joke.

The more I reflected on the conversation, the more annoyed I got.  Here I am, making one of the scariest decisions of my life, and you act as if I should just be able to get over it?

And I'm sure he's not the only person around who is so oblivious.  So I write this hoping that even one person will read it, and become a bit more aware of the issue. Please don't be one of those assholes who says hurtful things simply because they don't know any better. Inform yourself, even if it's just from this article. And if you don't want to take it upon yourself to learn, don't. But please, don't ever ever make someone feel as if their problems don't matter, whether it be mental illness or something else.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

Please Don't Talk About My Body

Please don't comment on my body.

You'll probably forget what you said, within maybe even five minutes.  But your words stay with me, looping through my mind, for days or weeks afterward.  Your flippant remark sticks with me, burrowing into my brain and twisting its meaning until it becomes something else entirely, and I'm left stressed, depressed, and uncomfortable.  I know other people's words shouldn't affect me so strongly.  I know it is my body, 100% M-I-N-E, and the only opinion of it that should matter is my own.  But that doesn't stop your opinion from causing me grief, long after you've forgotten it.

It doesn't matter whether its a compliment, a worry, or simply a statement; the fact that you noticed something about my body enough to comment makes me uncomfortable.  I'm suddenly uber-aware of whichever body area you just mentioned, and I can't help but obsess over it.

"Must be nice to be so tiny, shopping must be so easy for you!"  "My god, do you even eat?"  "I'm so jealous, you don't even have to worry about your weight!"

Okay.  I get it.  I'm skinny.  I'm well aware of that fact, but really, thanks for bringing it up, again.  I'm also aware (whether you are or not) that I didn't always have this body, and I didn't get it from a healthy lifestyle.  I've been fighting off demons in the forms of an eating disorder since age twelve; this little body has nothing to do with being blessed with a fast metabolism.

For the most part, I have things under control.  I eat a healthy diet, and I maintain a healthy (if somewhat low) weight.  A lot of days, I could even say I like my body.  But every single time you say something about how tiny I am, it starts a stream of anxious, obsessive, unhealthy thoughts.

Have I lost weight again?  Am I too tiny?  Did these pants always fit like this??

On worse days, my thoughts after such a comment are equally toxic, in a different way.  Good.  If I'm skinny enough for her to notice and say something, I'm still small enough.  I have to keep it that way.

In day-to-day, normal, healthy life, these demons stay quiet, hidden in the back alleys of my mind.  But when you carelessly mention my weight, they rage and roar and repeat in my head and drive me crazy.

Even if I didn't have eating disorder issues to deal with, I think I'd be uncomfortable with people talking about my weight.  My body is mine to worry about, and yours is your own issue.  They really shouldn't cross over into each other's territory.  What's it matter to you what size my jeans are?  What it matter to anyone what size ANYONE's jeans are, besides their own?

There are SO MANY other things you could find to compliment, question, or even criticize me about.  Please, choose one of the infinite other options next time.